Scars Aren't Meant to Heal
by pepsipiggy
Summary: "Don't touch me!"I scowl as I pull my shoulder away.Peeta stares at me, his eyes resembling shattered glass,fragile and crushed."S-Sorry" I can't look at him without feeling guilt, and tear away my gaze.I just want to go through the games and back to Prim


_A woman wearing vibrant ostentatious clothes bounced onto the stage with her seven inch yellow heels. Her lavender gloved finger tapped on the microphone. As it echoes across the square, she smiles at the crowd of unhappy faces. "Hello, hello. Welcome to the very first Hunger Games." She claps her hands and frowns slightly at the stoic people. "Now, allow us to begin the reaping!"_

_Her hand dips into the glass globe filled to the brim with folded papers. She pinches one up and brings it towards the microphone. "And our very first female tribute is…Kaylon Greene."_

_The crowd slightly disperses around a girl with long lackluster brown hair and dull grey eyes, dressed in a worn out blouse and cotton skirt. Everyone mumbles to one another. The girl who has nothing, has no one, is the very first District 12 tribute._

_Scars Aren't Meant to Heal _

Peeta Mellark.

There's something about that one name that leaves a dirty taste in my mouth. It's odd really, I never really talked to the kid but I always feel a twinge of anger around him. Maybe I chocked on some Pita bread when I was younger and a growth of loathe formed for anything related to the flat bread. That sounds absurd, now that I think about it.

But I don't know really, there's just something about him that bothers me, makes me give him a cold shoulder. Not like I talk to him anyways.

I sigh as I sit on the school bench, watching Peeta be surrounded by his posse. There's never a second when he's without friends. Unlike me, I'm usually alone except when I'm with Madge Undersee, my best friend. Well I think we are, or maybe we're just friends.

My palms push my body off the bench and I begin my walk home. My arms stick to my sides as I walk through the dirt road. Around me are makeshift homes with brittle wood. There are vulnerable cracks in nearly every nook and cranny, causing a frown to tug on my lips. It's so sad how District 12 is so down in the dumps.

Voices suddenly come closer and closer to me, and laughter is heard. I see Peeta and a group of his friends coming in my direction. My hands shove into my olive green jacket pockets before dashing home. As I run, I see Greasy Sae, who waves gently at me. I return the wave, my legs moving quickly.

Within minutes I reached home, I jimmy the door and push the rickety door open. There's no one in the kitchen and I look around. I slip off my worn out school shoes and wander through the small house. My hands coil around the door hinge as I peer inside.

My mother is searching through the chipping wardrobe, pulling out all of her nice clothes, most of which are from her old life. "Mom?" I ask, stepping into the room.

"Oh Katniss, you're home." She says, looking at me with her lifeless eyes. After so long, they were slowly regaining their shine. "What are you doing?" I ask, stepping towards the bed with her clothes spread all over.

"I'm just getting ready for the reaping."

I bite down on my lips nervously, that's right. The reapings. They're back, after a long bloody year. My mother rises up one of her blue sundress over me. "I think this would look nice for the reapings," she says, trying to pull a smile. I hear footsteps and I see Prim trying on a white blouse with a navy gray skirt going down above her knees. "How do I look?" She asks, a tremor obvious in her voice.

My eyebrows soften and I force a wry smile. "You look great, Prim."

She smiles weakly.

She's obviously terrified, after all, this is her first reaping. Every boy and girl fears the day when they become twelve, the day when their life is hanging by a piece of folded paper. And for some kids, their line is cut.

_Scars Aren't Meant to Heal_

My eyes crack open at dawn. My arms is still wrapped around Prim, who's blonde wavy hair was plastered all over the bed. Her eyebrows seem tense, nervous, afraid of what's to come in a few hours. Without conscious, she releases a whimper. My hand graces over her soft hair and I rest my head against her forehead. "_Shhh_…" I coo, "_It's going to be alright._"

Prim huddles closer to me and my grip around her tightens. My hand slows down slightly before I gingerly turn to face the lumber ceiling. At this rate, I'm never going to sleep.

_What if…_

_Prim does get reaped? No, I shouldn't be thinking like that. What are the odds? One out of over a thousand, the odds are definitely in her favor. Yes. They're definitely on our side. _I try my best to soothe my frantic thoughts. The horrifying thoughts of seeing Prim on the large screen, watching her be chased by the Careers, people twice her size and a hundred times her strength. Prim wouldn't stand a chance, she wouldn't be able to last the first day. The poor girl wouldn't be able to hold a simple knife. The thought of her killing someone or rather…the thought of her killing someon—_No!_

_She'll make it. During those three minutes, I can quickly teach her all I know. And…she's a small girl, she'll be hard to catch. She can last many days and no one will go after such a minor threat. Knowing Prim, she can easily make allies along the way and sponsors, thanks to her sweetness and kindness. _

The thoughts echo throughout my mind, fighting one another, keeping me awake. Being unable to sleep, I watch the sun finally illuminated the navy sky. I gently nudge Prim awake. She moans as she lifts up her body from the mattress. Realization dawns upon her and her pale cheeks become airbrushed with pink. Her blue eyes lock with my grey orbs with desperation. "Katniss… I don't want to go…What if I'm—"

Both of my hands dropped on her frail shoulders. "Prim. You'll be fine. Your name won't be picked." I assure her, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. I kiss her temple softly before lifting her light body off the bed. "Come on, let's get you ready."

Her bottom lips shakes but she nods.

Mother helps Prim braid her flaxen hair as she buttons the blouse. She pats off any remaining dust off her skirt. I slip into the blue dress and let its flow down to my knees. My mother comes around and zips it up for me. "Thanks," I mutter. I gaze at my appearance in the mirror and begin to braid my hair in my signature twist. The three of us step out of the shack and to the town square. Along the way, I see Gale, my best friend.

"Are you ready for your last reaping?" I muse as we walk together.

He runs a hand through his dark locks. "I don't know. My odds are pretty high of getting chosen, forty two of those papers are going to have my name on it." He stares at his shoes, which I can tell were recently shined, and says, "Besides, in a few years, I'll have to see Rory, Vick, and Posy in the crowd." His gaze fixes onto Prim, who's eyes are large and watery. "How's Prim holding up?"

I frown and lower my eyebrows, "She's absolutely terrified. She really believes that she'll be chosen."

Gale's broad shoulders tense up. "I don't really blame her, I remember how scared I was, I nearly pissed my pants simply getting my finger pricked." He laughs airily. A giggle escapes me but quickly fades when we see the large crowd of people.

"Katniss, I'm going to go on my line," he says. I nod. His grey eyes lock onto mine. "May the odds…"

"Be ever in your favor." I finish and together we laugh halfheartedly. With that, we stepped onto our separate lines and went through the process of the reaping. My finger was pricked once again and I didn't even wince. I watch Prim's reaction carefully. Her cheeks have lost all color. The Peacekeeper grabbed her wrist when Prim was too frozen with shock to move her arm. She gasps as the needle pierces her skin. The rude Peacekeeper rubs the drop of blood on the paper roughly before pushing her into the crowd of twelve through fifteen year olds. I watch her carefully from my group of sixteen to eighteen year olds.

The gaze is broken when there's a sudden feedback from the microphone. All heads turn to the front to see our district's escort, Effie Trinket. Her snow white face has a smile graced on it as she taps the microphone with her index finger. "Welcome, welcome. Today marks the beginning of the 74th Hunger Games. And now, without any further a due, let the reapings…begin!" Next to her, I see Haymitch, the only tribute who returned from the blood bath. He seems to be dizzy and wobbles slightly, occasionally he loses his balance. Ever since he returned from the Quarter Quell, he spent every minute of every day drowning himself in alcohol.

She steps over to the large glass bowl which held all the possible female tribute names. Her hands ghosts over several slips before dipping her hand in and pulling one out.

"And our female tribute for the 74th Hunger Games is…" She smiles at the audience before she unfolds it. "Primrose Everdeen!"

My heart stops pumping blood for a second as I take in the words. _Prim…Primrose Everdeen…_ My eyes avert to my sister to see her mouth hanging and her cheeks pallid. Prim turns her head desperately towards me but steps forward. "Prim!" I exclaim, looking at her worriedly. The Peacekeepers come towards her and my legs run without thinking. I scramble through two Peacekeepers and stand determined towards Effie. "I volunteer!" I shriek, my hands in balls. "I volunteer as tribute."

The air stills as the sentence stays stagnant in the air. A grins curves on Effie's painted lips. "What a surprise, come up here." She motions her fingers towards me. Prim shrieks and her voice cracks, reaching towards me. Gale parts the crowd and scoop up my bawling sister. He pats her back soothingly and carries her out the area. My lips tremble at the sight before turning to see the purple Effie, still motioning her fingers at me. My body lurches slightly, a Peacekeeper pushed me.

My nails pierce through the thin layer of skin as I step onto stage, a lump forming as I see the crowd of hopeless faces, my mother, Gale, and Prim.

"What's your name dear?" Effie asks me. My nose wrinkles at the smell of her poignant perfume. "Katniss Everdeen."

She repeats my words into the microphone, allowing it to echo across the staid atmosphere. Effie looks at me with a smile which I think is slightly sincere. "Everdeen…I bet that you volunteered for your sister."

My eyebrows crease, I say nothing. She then goes to the male glass bowl. She picks up a card and waves it at the crowd.

"And our male tribute is…Peeta Mellark."

My lips part as I stare at the crowd dispersing around the blond boy. Some anger stirs within me as Peeta looks around, as if asking for a volunteer. When no one steps forward, he nervously begins to walk to the front of the stage.

As Peeta walks on the stage, his shoulder brushes mine, and I motion it away, showing my obvious annoyance. Effie smiles and claps her hands like a child. "Let's have a warm applause for our two District 12 tributes: Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark!" No one speaks or moves, they all just watch us with pity. Everyone knows for a fact, we won't be coming back.

As we shake hands, I hardly notice how sweaty and clammy his hand is. All I can think is: _Oh no, not him._

* * *

**New story! The back story about Kaylon and Katniss will be revealed in due time, very slowly. What are your thoughts on them? I'm going to work on Clear right after I complete Melody. :]**

**Review? **


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